


Ava's Demon Prompts

by spineandsanguinity



Category: Ava's Demon
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Temporary Character Death, Vomiting, Wrathful Pride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3156134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spineandsanguinity/pseuds/spineandsanguinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short stories/oneshots based off of the webcomic, Ava's Demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. TiTAN loves you (TiTAN/Six)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you love someone who holds your life in their hands? The unfortunate answer, for Six, is yes.  
> Hail TiTAN, in all his glory, in all his perfection.

     Six breathed deeply, their respirator beeping quietly to confirm that the injection had been received. Dropping the syringe, they untied the elastic from their arm and leaned back in their chair. The lights that hung from the ceiling cast a blue glow over the entire room, and Six watched the monitors that were attached to the wall.

     Thousands were gathered in the city centre below, all followers of TiTAN, their saviour and god. Their eyes were all cast upward, waiting expectantly at the foot of the tall stage, all waiting for a view of the glorious and immortal.

     Six laughed. _Immortal._ The very idea was laughable. A true follower was as ever-lasting as TiTAN wished them to be.

     They stood up, pushing their chair out from behind them. They walked past the glass windows that lined their room, only stopping when they reached the mirrored table pushed against the wall. On top was a large metal box, riveted and locked tightly. Six brought out their ID card, holding it in front of the scanner that was bolted to the lid. A click echoed through the empty room, and the box released its pressure, opening slowly. Lit from behind were rows upon rows of bottles, all containing the secret to eternal life.

     Or at least, to eternal servitude.

     Six ran their hand along the rows, watching the bottles jostle in their places and clink against their fingertips. They repeated in their head. _TiTAN bless, TiTAN loves you. TiTAN bless, TiTAN loves you._

     There was a knock at the door.

     "Prudith," Six lifted their head, calling out distractedly. "This had better be important."

     A small, blonde head peeked in, revealing a nervous looking girl. She cleared her throat. “The followers are becoming… impatient, Strategos.”

     Six lifted their head, still not facing the door. They shut the box, waiting for the sound of the lock shutting again. They slowly turned their head. “Prudith, do you question the will of TiTAN?”

     "Not at all!" the girl squeaked, "I would never-"

     "Then leave."

     Nodding furiously, the girl shut the door and Six heard her retreating footsteps echo in the hallway outside. Six glanced up at the monitors again, surprised to see that there was in fact, unrest in the crowd. Squinting, they pressed a button on the side of their wrist, causing on the the screens to shoot down from its place on the wall. Zooming closer, Six waited for the pixels to clear.

     There was a girl. And a boy, though he was not important. The girl on the other hand was the most unsightly and garish shade of red. Six pressed a few buttons on the keyboard but was met with an annoying red light, blinking on the screen. The girl was not a registered follower. In fact, she was nowhere on their databases at all. Six watched as the girl walked up to one of the guards, gesturing to something just off screen. They were trying to leave the presentation? Six fumed, balling their hands into fists as the pair were sent back into the crowd. That they would dare to insult TiTAN with these actions was unthinkable. 

     Six swiped at the air, alerting a movement sensor. They walked, and the computer followed them to the desk in the middle of the room. They sat, typing angrily to identify who exactly had disrespected their god. Scanners that were located in the arena focused on the human child, zooming in with pinpoint accuracy. Results flashed on the screen, numbers and measurements whizzing past as Six looked deeper into the system. Finally, camera 599W locked in, signalling a possible ID verification using trace imagery. Six grinned excitedly, opening the result with a swift upwards motion. The screen blinked away from the main database and transferred over to a darker screen, empty of very much information. They scrolled down. If there was at least a page on the lifeform, the camera had to have picked up some sort of identifier off the human girl. Six read the blinking text.

          W. B.  
           **Species:** Vengess, 233019  
           **Extinct,** FILES DELETED

      _Extinct. No longer existent._ Six groaned in frustration, swiping past the false result. That couldn’t possibly be right. If there truly was an unregistered intruder in the city, there would be a serious problem.

     Another knock on the door grabbed their attention.

     "Prudith!" Six stood up, marching angrily to the door and slamming it open. "What have I said about-"

     “ _Hello, Six._ ”

     Six winced, looking upwards to see their god looking down at them. “Hail, TiTAN,” they sighed. They stepped back to let in the saviour, watching the god duck to fit through the doorway.

     "I spoke to the followers downstairs," said Six. TiTAN towered over them, his face hidden by his mask. They continued. "The machine is ready to go, so when you’d like me to start, I will."

     “ _Strategos,_ ” TiTAN looked outside. “ _Let’s sit down._ ”

     Six followed the god, jogging slightly to match his wide strides. He reached the metal bench on the far wall and sat, his body seeming out of place as he bunched over on the small seat. Six joined him, though rather awkwardly as they sat a respectful distance from the god.

     TiTAN looked out the window, speaking quietly. “ _The serum delivery for our soon-to-be follower has been put on hold. Something about an uprising in the South interfering with my trade routes. But, you have enough to give up some of your store, correct? I’m sure you still have plenty._ ”

     Six nodded, though unsurely. “Hail, TiTAN, you’ve been gracious enough to give me a large supply. I would be … _honoured_ to help the new follower.”

     Six furrowed their brow, trying to remember how many vials they had left. If the delivery did not arrive by next week, they would be sure to be sure to have problems of their own. Shortness of breath, loss of appetite, blood poisoning, organ failure, death…

     "Hail, TiTAN, I wanted to say-"

     " _Enough with the formalities, Six, nobody else is here._ "

     Six cleared their throat, nodding. “TiTAN, what is the machine for? It replaces the body of the follower, but why do they deserve to have the expedited process? Why can’t they work their way up through the ranks and earn it like a true believer?”

     The god chuckled, reaching up to take off his mask. Unlatching it, he lowered it and squinted, his eyes not accustomed to such a bright room. He held it in his hands, and Six glanced up to see his scarred, tired face. " _As always, worried about the followers, I see._ " 

     "It just seems," Six paused. "A little… unfair. They’ve done none of the work, yet they suddenly gain such a respected and esteemed role with you? You cannot accurately gauge who would be worthy."

     He looked at Six. “ _Are you sure you’re simply not worried that you will lose my interest?_ ”

     Six fidgeted in their seat, looking off. “If I were to lose your interest, I know that it would be my fault. You deserve only the best.”

     " _There is a reason that you’re my second, Six. You deserve to be here, just like everyone else under my command. I take care of you, just like I do all my followers._ " He rolled his shoulder, settling into a more comfortable position. “ _Think of this process as an… inspiration. To the lowly. A chance at something that would usually be unattainable._ ”

     Six remained silent.

     TiTAN moved closer. “ _I care for you, Six. I never have lied to you._ ”

     They turned.

     TiTAN continued. " _I care for you because you are so loyal to me. You are the epitome of my glory._ "

     Six blinked. They looked forward again, their face neutral as TiTAN continued to talk.

     " _So do this, do what I know you’re capable of. Show them what a true follower looks like._ ”

     "You don’t need to worry about that," they stood, leaning against the wall. "Anyone that I choose will submit to your power. It’s inevitable."

     “ _Excellent, then I can see no problems._ ” The god stood, and began to walk back towards the door.

     “Well, there is one minor thing that I should note,” Six glanced back at the computer, where the void result still signalled through the screen. An infiltrator would not be welcome at the ceremony, especially if they posed a risk. “There was an unidentified-

     “ _Don’t let me down, Six,_ ” Titan stopped walking. Whether or not he had heard them, Six could not discern. The god carefully replaced his mask, locking it into place. He lowered his hands and looked back. “ _I believe in your utter perfection, so don’t prove me wrong._ ”

     Six stepped around his legs, standing in front of TiTAN. “It’s just that there may be a possible-“

     " _You know that failure is not tolerated._ ”

     Six fell silent. Nodding, they stepped out of the god’s path and bowed, letting him walk past. “Yes, TiTAN. Bless you.”

     Had he not been wearing the mask, Six would’ve sworn that he had smirked. The irony of a god blessing himself was not lost on him.

     " _Bless, Six. You may begin the presentation._ "

     Six watched TiTAN walk out, peering through the door to see all those in the hallway kneel as he passed. A few looked enviously at Six’s door, no doubt wishing that they too could have such a personal relationship with the saviour. 

      _Fools_. To love a god was much more complicated.

-

     Six scanned the crowd of excited followers, all of them lifting their hands toward the stage to get their attention. The people cheered and called out of TiTAN’s glory and victory, all of them wanting to gain the body of a true follower.

     "And so…" Six raised their voice, their words echoing through the arena. "The lucky follower… who will be able to use the gate to paradise this evening…"

     The spotlights turned on and circled the crowd, whipping them into a frenzy. Six continued to look through the people, their eyes passing blue, white and grey.

     They called even louder, the drumroll playing over the speakers thundering loudly in their ears. “Will be…”

     They heard a voice. A small, pitiful voice.

     "Please, can’t you just let me through?"

      _ **Found you.**_

     Six raised their remote, dragging the lights over to a single spot at the edge of the crowd. The people all jerked their heads back to see who would be transformed, their eyes following the trail of spotlights.

     They settled on red. A horrible, blood-like red.

     Six cried out victoriously. Nobody would endanger TiTAN.

     "Come on up here, _follower!_ ” They hissed the last word, the lie tasting bitter and impure.

     TiTAN would remain safe.

     The girl resisted, and was forced towards the front. They ran through the scripted speech, both congratulatory and berating. A perfect mix for the perfect follower.

     "Don’t you think…" Six lowered their voice, now focusing only on the girl in front of them. "… you deserve to be happy?"

     Prudith took the girl, dragging her to the machine. Six’s face lit up again, launching back into their usual speech, yet remaining distracted.

     They raised their voice again, beckoning the followers closer to the stage.

     "TiTAN believes all followers deserve happiness."

      _And TiTAN believes all followers must be perfect._

      _Just like he is._


	2. Neighbours AU (Ava/Odin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin is a really shitty neighbour, and he's really loud.

     Ava remembers when she had first gotten her new apartment. As far as she could tell, there were no rats or cockroaches, and the last tenant had not lost a copious amount of blood on the kitchen floor, which was a step up from the last place she’d lived. She had gone about her daily routine, working hard at university, paying most of her bills on time, all in all, normal fare. She had been content, living peacefully and without any major disturbances. Life had been pretty good.

     That is, until O. Arrow had moved in.

     Damn that fucker.

-

     Ava could recall the very first day that Arrow had first moved in, weeks ago. She had come home from grocery shopping, and was fishing her keys out of her pocket when she noticed the new name.

     There, haphazardly shoved into the name slot for apartment four, where there had previously been a blank space, was the name of her new neighbour. Written messily and in what looked like purple gel pen.

      _O. Arrow_

     Ava had unlocked her door, dragging her groceries through the mailroom. She had stepped into the elevator, and as the door closed, she briefly considered going to say hello, maybe inviting them over for tea. She had dismissed it though, as such a friendly invitation on such short notice might have seemed too forward.

     Currently, Ava had been jolted awake to sound of loud guitar music, and the even louder sound of off-key singing. Huffing angrily, she rolled over and shoved her head under the pillow, muffling, but not entirely blocking the noise. This was now normal, and there had been countless nights where Ava had been kept up by the cacophony of hell that was her neighbour, O. Arrow.

     Some nights, there would be loud music blasting through the wall, accompanied by his ever-present, horrible singing. Others, there would be the sound of smashing glass and him arguing over the phone with someone who obviously made him really pissed off.

     Then there was one night in particular, when Ava had been mortified to hear the sound of grunting and banging against the drywall, accompanied by the high-pitched moaning of some unfortunate female. That night, she had slept in the bathtub.

     Now though, it was three in the morning, she had an exam in eight hours, and she was ready to shove O. Arrow’s CD player up his ass.

     She sat up straight, her eyes filled with anger and sleep-deprivation. She threw the covers off and pulled on a shirt, fuming angrily as she stomped to the door. She swung it open and stepped into the hallway, now deafened by a timely guitar riff that emanated from her neighbour’s door. Her pace slowed. She walked up to the door, wincing as the music became louder and knocked.

     Unsurprisingly, there was nothing.

     She knocked again, harder this time.

     Unbelievably, she could hear the music rise in volume, causing her to jerk back in surprise. She now banged on the door, her tiny fists balled up and hitting it so hard that the doorknob rattled.

     Then, silence. The music stopped playing, and though Ava’s ears were ringing, she relished in the temporary bliss. She could hear steps coming towards the door from the other side, and steeled herself, ready for confrontation.

     The door opened slowly, and standing there was a very attractive, tall guy with a scruffy beard, dirty pyjamas, and headphones on, playing so loudly that Ava could hear exactly what the singer was saying from where she stood. He looked around, only noticing Ava after a second. He took an earbud out, and raised an eyebrow.

     "Can I h-help you?"

     Ava squinted, trying very unsuccessfully to look cross. “Your music is too loud. This has been happening for a while now, and it really needs to stop. They can probably hear you down the street.”

     He looked at her confusedly, before his eyes widened. “Sh-shiit, actually? I’m so s-sorry.”

     Ava stopped. She had not expected this.

     "F-fuck," he took the other one out and stopped the music, leaning back and putting the player on the counter inside. "I’m sorry, sometimes i f-forget that I n-need to keep it down."

     "Yeah…" said Ava, who was losing her steam. "Why is your music so loud anyways?"

     "So I c-can focus," he said, looking sheepish "I need to block out the outside w-world when I work, so I use music."

     "Two sources though?" Ava raised her hands in disbelief. "How the fuck did you manage that?"

     "Yeah, that’s kind of why I h-have no v-volume control. But th-that’s how I work."

     "Work?" Ava stared in disbelief. "What possible work could involve deafening yourself?"

     "You s-sound like my m-mom."

     "Well, from the way you’re living, it seems like you could use a caretaker."

     He smirked, “Are y-you offering?”

     Ava blushed angrily, her face turning red. “What, no, I-“

     He laughed, moving to lean against the doorway. “I’m sorry, I h-had to. Look, miss…” He trailed off.

     "Ava. My name is Ava."

     "Well, Ava," he nodded, standing upright again. "I’m s-sorry if I caused you any inconveniences. I’ll m-make it up to y-you sometime."

     "What’s that supposed to mean?"

     He chuckled. “It means I’m f-flirting with you.”

     Ava was taken aback. She raised a finger. “I come over here to tell you to lower your music, it ends up being a misunderstanding, you compare me to your mom, and you end up flirting with me?”

     He nodded, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

     If Ava had been blushing before, she must have looked completely red by now. She brought her hands up to her face and looked at the ground, causing the man to step forward.

     "Shit, I’m s-sorry! You’re uncomfor- F-fuck!" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I t-try to be suave and l-look where it g-gets m-me."

     "Sure."

     He turned, stunned. “What?”

     "I said ‘sure,’" Ava wrung the bottom of her sweater, looking off down the hall. "If you want to do something sometime, that’d be nice." She looked up. "Though, I don’t even know your name."

     "O-Odin."

     "Odin?" Ava looked up.

     He nodded.

     "Okay. Odin."

     "Ava." He leaned his forearms on both sides of the doorway.

     Ava looked around anxiously, avoiding his gaze. “I-I should probably be getting back to bed.”

     Odin looked inside to see his wall clock. “Yeah, it’s a-almost four.”

     Ava squeaked, walking quickly back to her apartment door. “I should really be sleeping now.”

     Odin lazily saluted her. “Goodnight, Ava. I’ll try and keep my music down for you.”

     Ava smiled nervously. “Thanks, Odin.” And with that, she closed the door, going over and falling into bed. She laid there, staring at the ceiling, her cheeks becoming flushed once again. She rolled over, pulling the blanket up and settling, smiling embarrassedly as she fell asleep once more.

     Across the hall, Odin was doing the same thing, laying in the dark of his room, music playing softly in his ears, blushing.

     Below, Gil Marverde removed his stethoscope from his ceiling, the conversation over. He turned to Maggie, outstretching his hand.

     "You owe me twenty bucks."


	3. "Forgive me." (TiTAN/Six)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The higher you are, the harder the fall.

     The world was on fire, the last remnants of a glowing city now reduced to rubble. The ground, dry and barren of life, crumbled beneath his steps as he walked towards them, leaving a trail of dark blood in his wake. His brow was slashed, and eye left blinded, seeing nothing. The other, watered by tears, saw everything - everything falling apart around him. TiTAN heaved, his breath coming in short gasps as he fell to the ground, pulling himself towards them.

     He laid at their feet, bowing like so many had before him. The ashes of his failures smudged on his face. He inhaled shakily. Smoke rose from his weak, broken body and he held his head at their feet, clutching their ankles like a lifeline.

     He shuddered, his back heaving.

     "Forgive me."

     Six turned their head upwards, to look at the stars that were left above, unable to tell them apart from the fleeing ships that dashed away from the remnants of a once glorious lie. Burnt out, red clouds covered the sky and long shadows began to overtake the ground.

     TiTAN gripped their ankles tighter, his arms weakening as he coughed loudly, his voice strained. 

     "Six. I’m begging you."

     Six closed their eyes slowly, the sound of their respirator shaky. The once calming noise of sterility and devotion now sounded too metallic. Too robotic. Too fake.  
Not like before. Before all of this had happened, even before they had been suited to TiTAN’s form. They had vague memories of a family, one they had abandoned to be with the lord.

      _"I would never lie to you," he had said, in low, flickering light. With all the followers gone, he had held them to his chest and spoken those very words, the promises of paradise and of pure, unfettered glory. He had promised so much, for he had been a god. He had promised truth and a life with no regrets._

     TiTAN raised his head, his eyes darkened from pain and gore.

     He whispered, almost imperceptibly. “Forgive me.”

     Six took a step back, watching TiTAN’s hands fall onto the dirt.

      _"I have been loved by a god." They had said, fury and rage behind their voice. All had cowered before them, the one who swayed the heart of the immortal. "I have been loved by a god."_

     "No."

      _I have been loved by a liar._


	4. Sweet Dreams (Odin)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the accident, Odin had felt different. He hadn’t been able to put his finger on it, but he had known that something was off. He sat in the edge of his bed, checking over his body, his room, trying to find what was making him so uneasy. Something was putting him on edge, something that he couldn’t see. As much as he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unsettling anxiety.
> 
> It wasn’t until he woke up to the devil at his bedside that he had a vague idea.

     He’d always had weird dreams, ever since he’d been small. He remembered when he’d been really young and wandering into Olai’s room, terrorized by the fears that afflicted him in his subconscious. Though the memories blurred together now, Odin could recall sitting on the floor with his brother, all the lights in the room on, and Olai patting his shoulder, reassuring him that it had only been his imagination, a horrible, unreal dream.

     But this, this was not a dream.

     He was falling, falling through nothingness. Around him, he could feel air rushing past, his hair whipping around. Yet, try as he might, he couldn’t see anything in the pitch black. His heart raced as he fell further, fear constricting his chest as he outstretched his arms, trying to grab anything he could. He could hear nothing but his heartbeat and blood rushing through his ears. Then, below, he saw a light. A pinpoint of something in the eternal void that he plummeted through. Squinting, he felt something sharp digging into his scalp, and he clutched his head painfully as he tumbled into the brightness.

     When he awoke, he was in his own bed, head aching, heart pounding, but safe. The lamp on his nightstand was on, its glow filling the otherwise dark room. He rubbed his eyes, pulling the blanket away from his legs to go to the bathroom. He stood.

     And was met with the horrifying, deathly form of a horned, blackened monster.

     Odin scrabbled to move away, the tall, dark figure standing in front of him, surrounded by a haze of clouds. It stared at him, its red eyes glowing and looking piercingly at his heaving chest, its head tilting in what almost seemed like a curious manner. It looked down at its hands, as if it had been holding something moments ago that was now gone. It lowered them, and looked around the room, its unnatural height causing it to crane its neck. Odin shuddered in the corner, struck voiceless out of fear, his small form covered by the drapes of his window. Peeking his head out, he looked at the door, which was wide open. Weakly, he called out.

     “H-h-help.. m-me…” he stuttered, his speech impediment only furthered by his panic.

     The monster, still fascinated by its surroundings, uttered only a few words, its voice like gravel and iron.

     “ _It worked._ ”

     Odin’s voice strengthened, and he stood, shaking. “H-help.” He could see Olai’s door from here, and if only he could just get him to come.

     “O-Ol-lai-“

     He was cut off when he felt cold air on his neck. Shrieking, he fell over and saw that the shadow being was right next to him, its clawed hand reaching for his face. Odin shivered, and scrabbled over to the bookshelf, cornered and scared for his own life. The thing moved closer, its body solidifying the longer Odin looked at it. Skulls and bones were clustered around its neck, like war medals. Its horns were twisted, scraggly things that jutted out from its head and curved wickedly around the jaw. It raised its arm again and Odin could see ripped cloth and dark liquid dripping from an open gash on its palm. A single bug, a dragonfly crawled out of the cut, shaking its wings dry. It flew into the air, buzzing noisily around Odin’s head, shaking flecks of what he now realized was blood onto his face. He began to cry.

     Voice, now fully realized, raised in volume, a scared little boy screeching out of utter desperation. “Olai! H-help!”

     He could hear the door down the hallway swing open, and he could hear a blanket being dragged along the carpet, accompanied by the soft swearing of his brother.  
The monster bent down, its hand touching Odin’s head. Odin pulled his knees to his chin, glaring at the floor as tears filled his eyes. It spoke again, its voice a whisper, smoke floating up from its head.

     “ _Make a pact with me, boy._ ”

     “Wh-what?”

     Odin looked up just as Olai stomped in. His brother saw him in the corner, terrified. His eyes widened, and Odin watched him come over, blanket now dropped to the floor.  
“No, Olai! St-stay back!” Odin raised his hand, and Olai froze. His brother spoke slowly, his words quiet and full of worry.

     “Odin? Are you okay?”

     Odin shook his head and looked up at the figure, its face now inches away from him. He could feel himself crying again and he pressed himself against the wall, the peeling wallpaper rough under his fingertips.

     “P-please, what do you w-want?”

     “Odin, who are you talking to?” Olai stepped forward again. “Odin?”

     Odin whipped his head towards Olai, a newfound fear causing his head to pound. His hair fell into his eyes and he gritted his teeth as he half-shouted.

     “Can’t you s-see it? Th-the monster?”

     Olai raised an eyebrow, his worry now gone in favour of annoyance. “Odin, stop it, it’s not funny.”

     Odin shook in terror, feeling blood drip down his forehead, coming from the demon’s outstretched hand. Bugs and smoke poured out of the wound, the floor becoming obscured by writhing, twisting smog. He desperately reached out for his brother.

     “G-get the gun,” he said, his small hand pointing towards the hallway.

     Olai shook his head. “Odin, this is stupid, I’m going back to sleep.”

     “Why c-can’t you s-see _this?_ ” Odin cried, the room becoming darker, the light blocked out. “Olai!” But his brother had left, the hallway light now switched off and the door closed. Odin sobbed, his lamp now dim and flickering. He was afraid of the dark, and he didn’t want to die.

     “ _Make a pact,_ ” the demon repeated, its face directly in front of his, eyes boring into Odin’s. The lamp flickered once more before turning itself off, the room now exactly like the empty space he’d fallen through before.

     Odin gripped his neck and looked down at the floor, tears falling onto his socks. He cried softly, feeling cold, wet blood falling onto his back. He couldn’t see anything anymore.

     He raised his wrist, arm trembling as he pressed a small button on his watch. The smoke around him lit up with bright green light, the time projected on the small screen. Then it darkened again, leaving only a fearful boy with the flashed view of the monster’s mask.

     Five hours until the sun would rise.

     “ _Pact with me._ ”

     Odin could see a dark puddle forming in front of him, could hear the sounds of clashing, bloody war playing in his ears. Never in his life had he felt so frightened. He reached for his watch again, momentarily lighting up the room for a couple seconds.

     Four hours, fifty-nine minutes.

     “P-please,” he whispered, ears deafened by screaming and the clashing of swords.

     “Someone h-help me.”


	5. Promises, promises (Maggie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maggie used the first flower, because she knew it would work.
> 
> Maggie tried to destroy herself, because she knew it would work.

      **“I just can’t, Maggie.”**

      _Please._

      _Please, don’t say it._

      **“I could never love you.”**

-

     It was dark, inside her mind. Maggie walked through what seemed like an endless, empty field. The sky overhead was stormy, lightning flashing and heavy rain pouring from the clouds, but never reaching the ground. There was no thunder. The world was silent, save for the rustling of grass she brushed past, and the soft noises of her feet hitting the soil. She felt cold. She felt blank. 

     She felt like running.

     She broke into a sprint, her breathing becoming heavy as she ran, ran towards a far-off horizon that didn’t seem to be getting any closer. She couldn’t tell if she was moving or not, the world around her was the same as it had been minutes before. Her face felt hot, and her eyes became blurry with tears that she angrily wiped away with the back of her wrist. She kept running.

     A forest appeared around her, so slowly that she didn’t even notice it until it became hard for her to see. Trees the size of buildings towered above her, their trunks like huge, unmoving obstacles in her path. She could not see their tops, and they seemed to stretch on forever, branches extending into the sky like they were born of clouds and storm. She was gasping, her chest burning like fire, but her feet kept moving. One step after the other, she panted loudly, the noise echoing through the absolutely silent world. She was the only one there. Light flashed momentarily and pinpricks made their way to the ground, guiding her way. She cried freely now, her pounding footsteps slowing to an uneasy, stumbling walk. She put a hand against a tree, her face downwards, her hair blocking out everything else. She sobbed bitterly, a wretched, ugly, strangled noise that escaped her throat like a trapped animal. Her tears hit the bare soil at the foot of the tree, tiny, white flowers pushing out of the ground. They glowed gently, blooming open with every drop that watered the earth. The world was silent and Maggie was alone, choking on her own tears. She turned around and slumped backward, burying her face in her hands. The forest around her grew blacker and heavier, the tree trunks becoming larger and surrounding her as their roots stretched deep into the earth. Her fingertips dug into the edges of her face and she brought her knees up, trying to make herself as small as possible.

     Her hands were shaking.

     She felt exhausted. She felt empty. She wrenched her hands into her hair, pulling her head down. Her voice, cracked and weak, whispered almost indiscernibly.

     “Tuls.”

     She lifted her head slightly, eyes reddened and tired. Her throat was hoarse, but she cried out louder, her voice ricocheting off the trees in the silent, desolate landscape. 

     “Tuls,” she called out, the name less like an invitation and more of a plea. She looked down at her feet, which were pressed against the bottom of a huge tree. On all sides, she was flanked by large, knotted roots that cradled her, treetops blocking all light and shutting her in. She blinked. And when she opened her eyes again, the entire forest was gone, leaving her in a pair of familiar, greenwood arms.

     Tuls held her small form as if she weighed nothing, arms creaking as he set her down on the ground, seating her on a stump. He blinked, bringing up a hand to touch her cheek.

      _“Magnolia Lacivi. What is it you desire?”_

     Maggie reached up and gripping his hand, burying her face into it. The clouds slowly cleared and now a pale moon shone above, with sparse stars flickering far above. She wrapped her arms around his hand and turned her head, cheek pressed into his rough palm.

     She managed a few words. “It didn’t- d- didn’t work.”

     Tuls knelt, bringing her into his embrace. Her chin rested on his shoulder, his elbows touching the ground as he brought her to his chest.

     Maggie could hear his ancient heart pounding solidly, warmth emanating from his body. His hair, like leaves, rustled as he tilted his chin slightly.

      _“It is only the first, Magnolia. There will be others.”_

     She laughed under her breath, sounding broken. “I didn’t n-need there to be others.”

      _“I promise that there will be others,”_ rumbled the demon, his grip on the girl tightening. _“I promise you, Magnolia.”_

     “He left me.” She stood, crossing her arms. She brought one hand up, moving her hair out of her face. “He just left me. He said that he didn’t love me. That he could never love me.”

     Maggie sat back down on the stump, drying her eyes. She keeled over and barked out a laugh, harsh and ironic. “What… what an asshole.”

     Tuls rose, standing over her with a sad, pitiful look. _“Your choice of partner was questionable from the start.”_

     Maggie nodded. Tearfully, she sat straighter, looking off into the distance. “I know. I just- I knew that.” She kicked her feet, her toes brushing along the dirt. She whispered softly. “I always knew.”

      _“Then why, Magnolia, did you pursue him? If it was doomed from the beginning?”_

     Maggie brought her legs up and pulled them in, chin resting on her knees. She brought her palms to her eyes. “I- I can’t tell you.”

      _“Why not?”_

     “I can’t tell you what I don’t know, Tuls.”

     He opened his mouth to answer but could think of nothing to say. Maggie spoke again, face still in her hands. 

     “How many flowers do you have?”

     Startled, Tuls raised an eyebrow. _“I do not understand.”_

     “You said it yourself,” said Maggie, turning her head upwards. She reached out towards him. “You said that there would be others. How many others can I have?”

     Tuls shook his head. _“That is not what I meant.”_

     “Then what did you mean?” Maggie’s words were slowly returning to their full volume. Her voice cracked. “Tuls? What did you mean?”

      _“I-“_

     “Who will love me, Tuls?” She cut him off, arm hanging lamely at her side. “What sort of horrible person could I make love me?”

      _“I cannot give you love, Magnolia. You know that.”_

     “Well, I can get close.” She stood, fist gripping so tightly that she shook. “I can get pretty fucking close.”

      _“But that is not what you want.”_ He sat down, crushing flowers beneath him. _“I know what you want and it is something that I cannot give you.”_

     “I just need one horrible, stupid person to fall in love with me.”

      _“I can’t guarantee that will happen, Magnolia.”_

     Maggie looked at the ground, her bangs hiding her eyes. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she offhandedly noticed the dirt at the edges of her dress. She spoke, quietly. “Maybe it’s because I deserve it.”

     Confused, Tuls shook his head. _“What are you talking about?”_

     “The answer to your question,” she mumbled. “Why I went after him even though I knew it wouldn’t work. I don’t… deserve anybody better than me. And I’m just-“

     She stopped.

     “I’m just a monster.”

     The land was silent again, not a single noise in the entire landscape. Nothing moved, and nothing was going to move unless she did.

     “I’ll make someone love me.” She shuddered, nails digging into her palm. “I’ll find someone, and they’ll fucking adore me-

     “Even though I don’t deserve it.”

     She whipped her head up, eyes watering. “Tuls. I’ll ask again. How many flowers do you have left?”

     He stuttered out. _“There’s six left, but, Magnolia, once again, the flowers don’t guarantee-“_

     “Six chances.” She started to walk off, her steps quick as she moved through the field. Tuls walked behind her, his long strides and heavy steps shaking the earth.

     Maggie held her arms and shivered, rubbing them up and down to try and get warm again, now that she was moving. She wiped her nose and sniffed, focusing on her thoughts.

     “One day,” she said, slowing down. Tuls lagged behind her, unsure if it was an invitation to come closer. Maggie continued.

     “One day, I’ll find some other lonely-“ she started to walk faster again. “No. Some other asshole who _shall_ love me.” She gritted her teeth. “Even if it’s the last thing I do.”

      _“Magnolia…”_ Tuls’ shoulders drooped. _“I’m not sure if I can help you do that.”_

     “Whatever,” said Maggie. She swooped down and yanked up a flower from its roots, earning a small cry of pain. She turned to Tuls, shoving the plant in his face. “You just need to make the flower. I’ll do whatever it takes from there.”

     Eyes widening, Tuls quickly took the flower from her, gently putting its roots back into the upturned soil. It thanked him weakly.

     Face cleared, now full of determination, Maggie grabbed Tuls’ hand, pulling him down to her height. “I’ll make someone love me, and you’re going to help either way.”

      _“Magnolia, I don’t think you really-“_

     “You promised.” She let go, slowly bringing her hand down. “Don’t forget, you promised.”

     Tuls opened his mouth.

     Somewhere far away, in another world, another time, there was a soft beeping noise. The two of them looked up, Maggie smiling sadly. She hugged Tuls, her arms barely wrapping around his torso.

     “I’ll find someone, okay?” She began to run, getting further away from him. “Don’t worry! I’ll get somebody and you can see your princess, okay?”

      _“Magnolia!”_ Tuls shouted after her. _“Please, listen to me!”_

     “You promised!” She yelled back, looking over her shoulder. Her foot hit something, a tree root, and she flailed as she fell, plummeting into a dark hole. Her hair flew out behind her and wind rushed past, her dress falling away in pieces. She closed her eyes and extended her arms, smiling as she continued to drop, heartbeat thundering. The beeping became louder, bells jumping and springing in her ears. Maggie felt warmer, and she brought her hands to her chest, holding them over her heart.

     She stopped falling. She opened her eyes.

     She was in a hospital room, the lights overhead blinding her with their brightness, the beeping noise directly next to her. She squinted, moving to rub her eyes, only to find an IV stuck in her arms. Looking at it curiously, she realized that there was thick gauze wrapped around her head, covering one ear so that she could only hear her beeping monitor through her left side. So that’s what had brought her back.

     She turned her head to look at the machine, her heart rate projected on the screen in blinking green lines. She didn’t know what BPM stood for, but she wasn’t focusing on that. Instead, she focused on the boy sitting in the chair beside her bed, asleep, head lolled to the side. He still had on a raincoat, and his backpack was thrown against the wall.

     Maggie coughed.

     The boy opened his eyes, jolting upward when he saw Maggie, who opened her eyes again and turned to him, gaze starry.

     “You’re awake!” he cried, getting out of his chair. “Fuck, where’s the nurse?” He ran to the door, her eyes following him as he hollered down the hallway.

     “She’s awake! Hey! Can we get a nurse?” He held onto the doorframe with one hand, his torso now completely sticking out. “Hello?”

     Maggie sat up slowly, quickly moving her hand to pull down the side of her hospital gown. She coughed weakly and tilted her head, gaining his attention. 

     She smiled sweetly. “What… what happened?”

     The boy rushed over, hands gripping the bars on the sides of her bed. “I saw you jump off that building! It was so fucking horrible, you were falling to the ground and people were screaming. Don’t you remember any of this?”

     She shook her head.

     The boy calmed himself down, chest rising and falling as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I- I brought you to the hospital. I told them you were my sister, and I just-“

     He looked her over, his eyes concerned. “How are you feeling?”

     Maggie felt warm again. Shyly, she pulled the covers up to her chest, blushing as she looked deeply into his worried eyes.

     She laughed softly.

     “I’m feeling alright.”


	6. Follow Me into Death (Wrathia/Pedri)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He swore, his voice breaking before he whispered, so quietly he barely heard it himself. 
> 
> _“I love you, Wrathia.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the 100 follower giveaway.  
> Vaguely nsfw in one section, tw: death, gore, vomit

     Wrathia stared at the ceiling, watching his illusions flit about and buzz around in the darkness. Her husband lay next to her, his arms extended upwards as he twisted his fingers, forming dragonflies out of smoke and soft, violet light. The entire palace seemed silent, the usual raucous days and nights filled with a dreaded stagnancy. Everyone was waiting, waiting for her to decide.

     “Pedri?”

     The lights died and the insects disappeared, plunging the room into darkness. He lowered his hands slowly, resting them on his chest as he replied in a gravelly voice.

     “Yes?”

     “What am I going to do?”

     He said nothing, instead reaching out for her hand. Grasping it, she tightened her grip and exhaled, her breath edging upon shakiness. She spoke again.

     “What would you do?”

     “My love, I cannot say.”

     Wordlessly, she let her head loll to the side and rest on his shoulder. Pedri turned over, pulling her into his chest. Wrathia could feel his arm wrap around her body and she curled up tighter, rested her clenched fist against his torso, burying herself deeper under the covers. He kissed the top of her head.

     “Will they still follow me? Even if I fail?”

     “I know you will not fail. You are far too stubborn.”

     Wrathia popped her head up from under the covers and sneered at him, causing him to chuckle. She poked his chin.

     “You’re not helping.”

     “I’m sorry,” he smirked.

     Wrathia laughed softly, her happiness eventually dying down as the worry came back. She looked back up and found Pedri’s face solemn again, gazing off at the wall pensively. Once again, it was quiet. After a few moments, Wrathia felt herself being lifted, her body shifting upwards on the sheets.

     Arms clutching her sides, Pedri pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closed.

     He spoke, his voice rough. “I would follow you, _even into death._ ”

     Stunned, Wrathia tilted her head back, looking at her husband. Her body relaxed, and she rested a hand on his cheek, her fingers curving around his jaw. Somewhere in the back of her mind, an idea began to form. A horrible, twisted, desperate idea. 

     She murmured, looking away. “You’d do that for me?”

     Pedri blinked, lifting her chin to look at him, his eyes meeting hers. 

     “I would do anything for you.”

     Wrathia bent her head forward again, and closed her eyes, leaning against his chest. Pedri’s arm fell lazily over her waist, and she chuckled bitterly, her voice barely audible as she whispered.

     “ _Are you sure?_ ”

-

     TiTAN became impatient. 

     TiTAN became angry. 

     TiTAN became violent, in his own, horrible way.

     Up until now, there had been one hundred years of peace, the last wars of yesterday quiet and finished with the last king and queen. Her people were scared, vulnerable, and unprepared for what was in store. In the name of TiTAN, his soldiers _physically removed people’s lives_. Entire cities were wiped clean, razed from the ground and whisked away.

     There were no bodies, no blood, no wreckage. And that’s what scared her the most. She had expected gore and absolute war, for that was what she had been raised on. Battles and bruised jaws, clenched fists and burning revolution. Her first armies had returned home, not with victory or defeat, but with confusion.

     This was not a war she was familiar with.

     Instead, the ground was flat, rocky. Mountains disappeared and rivers dried up, planets left completely barren and without a trace of life. Her empire, piece by piece was becoming clean. Sanitary. _Decontaminated_.

     TiTAN did not want to simply take over an empire, no, he wanted to start his own. A _pure_ , unquestioning people that would follow his every order. Wrathia had always had another plan at the back of her mind. Something that would risk her entire empire, and all of the people in it. All that she cared about, all who she cared about, they would be in danger. She did not want to attempt it until it was the last resort.

     But it was.

     And so, the game had to change.

     Whispers started in the palace that a new plan had been formed, and how the queen would spend days in her study, flashes of strange light coming from under the door. When questioned by the lords and ladies of the court, Pedri would simply shake his head, not saying anything.

      _A plan has been made_ , the people said. _We are saved_.

     The fires burned, and Wrathia tied her hair back, stirring and plotting and rummaging through her cupboards. She worked day in and day out, poring over old texts and trying to find something other than vague descriptions and old wives tales. Sometimes, she would hear a single knock on the door, and she’d open it to see a tray of food left on the floor.

     Even in moments of peril, he insisted on making sure that she ate.

     There were days that she thought about giving up, when ashes were smudged on her cheeks and the burning fear of failure sent its acidity through her veins. Maybe she really couldn’t save everyone. Maybe she was destined to fail, worthless, useless, even when so many depended on her. She would grit her teeth and swear, eyes teary, knocking over piles of books and watching Pedri come in to pick them up off the ground. Desperation was setting in and she let it consume her, anchored only when Pedri would call out to her, bringing her back.

     She would hold things, not realizing that she would grip them too tightly in her rage, and would open her palm to find that glass had embedded itself into her skin, blood pooling in her palm. Her husband had an odd sense about her and would come in every time, wordlessly sitting next to her and gently taking her by the wrist. Pedri would pick the shards out for her, and bandage her hand with strips of cloth, knotting it tightly and letting her get back to work without interruption.

     At night, she’d stumble into their room, exhausted, collapsing into bed. She could feel him undoing her hair and letting it fall onto the pillowcase, swathing her in blankets and touching her face tenderly as she drifted into the unconscious. 

     Her fleeting, carnal desires were distracting, if anything. Yet, he wouldn’t allow her to do a thing for him. Instead he made sure that she could forget about her worldly problems, if only for a little while. Harsh whispers in the corners of her study, foreheads touching and pressed up against the wall, he made her feel that her lack of control could be a good thing, even when they both knew the truth. Moments would pass and she’d be back to studying, hair disheveled and brow sweaty, a momentary distraction over and dealt with.

     As the days dragged on, she spent nearly all of her time there, surrounded by her work that now controlled her entire life. She’d often end up asleep, cheek pressed onto the table, and wake up to find blankets around her shoulders and the workspace organized. Pedri pretended to know nothing about the dragonflies that swept up after her, straightening books and cleaning up spills.

     All of this, if she had not known better, she would have found endearing.

     It could have gone on forever, but it didn’t.

-

     All her best warriors, her brethren, her family, stood before her, fierce and deathly. Their eyes burned with rage and honour, their heads held high in allegiance to her. They cried out her name, her glory and banged their weapons on their shields, screams of victory on their lips. Raising her hand, she silenced them, the throne room falling silent.

     Just last night, the last stronghold had fallen. Millions lost their lives defending the border against TiTAN, fighting so that the Vengess Empire would prevail. The edges of their galaxies grew smaller, their people falling under the feet of the false god. Everywhere he stepped, he wiped out all that existed, replacing it with metallic, shining lies. He grew stronger every day, and he would be here soon. Wrathia gestured to Pedri, who stepped forward, carrying an enormous chest.

     “My brothers, sisters, friends!” Wrathia’s voice echoed through the room, her words full of fire. “I call you forth to save our empire and our people!”

     They yelled in agreement, raising their weapons towards the hanging chandeliers above, the light glinting off their blades.

     “This plan is dangerous, and completely unlike what we have tried before.” Her voice was darker, and she raised her head, breathing deeply. 

     She called out. “TiTAN is too cowardly to show his face. He insults our empire by treating us like nothing but vermin.”

     She stepped down from the dais, her footsteps soft, predatory. Walking past the rows of warriors, she spoke again.

     “He massacres our people and takes them away, so we cannot even perform proper rites. On his hands is the blood of all our families, all of our galaxies.”

     She beckoned to Pedri, who stepped down fluidly, the contents of the chest clinking around inside.

     “We are the last, prevailing homeland. We are the last resort for our people. Thousands have flocked here for safety and we have not been able to give them to victory they deserve. Our vast and glorious empire depends on us, and today I give you a chance to save your people.”

     She shouted louder, arm raised above her head. “You will be heroes! They will tell stories about us, and about the legendary defeat of the false prophet!”

     “Victory to the Vengess Empire! Victory to Wrathia!” they cried out, booming voices echoing through the palace. Their souls had not been crushed by defeat, and they burned with hatred for the enemy.

     “My friends,” Wrathia spoke more softly now. “We are at an impasse. We cannot fight the enemy head on. They are too advanced for us. Instead, we must play a game of chance.”

     Previously quiet, her warriors looked around uncertainly, murmuring their confusion.

     “I have devised a plan,” she said, walking towards her husband. “If we cannot claim victory in life-“

     She waved her hand over the latch and it fell off, hitting the ground. 

     “We will claim it in death.”

     The chest opened and inside were rows upon rows of bottles, each glass vial corked and labeled with the true name of its intended drinker. They bubbled and glowed, their contents so powerful that their aura exuded death and destruction. Scenes of an endless abyss and oblivion flashed through all of the warriors’ minds, the feeling of impending doom unshakeable the longer they looked at them. With sorcery so powerful, all could sense what the bottles held.

     Death.

     Mortality.

     Desperation.

     “Upon drinking this wine, you will be cursed.” Wrathia picked up a bottle and held it aloft, the contents giving off a sickly glow. “I will not lie to you about that. You will be cursed to never die, not until the plan succeeds.”

     She lowered her hand. “You will live this life you are currently in, and upon your last heartbeat, latch onto the next living being that comes into existence.”

     Someone called out from the back. “Is that not from one of the old tales?”

     Wrathia nodded. “Yes. It is. And it is very real.”

     The unrest among the warriors grew palpable, and many began to look around, talking and wondering aloud in confusion. Wrathia moved to speak but was stopped when her general spoke up. The Covetess stepped forward, bowing deeply, and all others in the throne room fell into silence.

     “With respect, how would this fall into your plan?”

     Wrathia clenched her jaw, taking a moment before answering. “As I said, there is extreme risk. Our hope is that we may possess beings stronger than ourselves, then reunite as a more powerful, undefeatable army.”

     Looking up, Wrathia addressed her warriors. “I would not ask this of you if it was not our last resort.”

     Her general smiled, and Wrathia watched the Covetess kneel before her, head bent forward as she swept her skirts back. She spoke loudly, voice ricocheting off the walls.

     “I, General Nervine, do swear my allegiance to the Vengess Empire, and vow to take upon this task to honour our people and our homeland.” She stood, looking at Wrathia. “You have the people of the Covetess galaxies at your disposal.” 

     Looking over her shoulder, the general called out to the crowd, her voice full of emotion.

     “All of you, honour your ruler! Honour your people and become the heroes of eternity!” Turning around fully, she raised her sword. “Do not let this false god kill your people. Do not let him slander your name! Prove your bravery and prove you are worthy of calling yourselves _warriors_!”

     She was met with cries of agreement, and Wrathia smiled. One by one, blades reached the air, warriors pledging their weapons and their last heartbeat to their leader. People from all galaxies promised to fight by her side, to help her claim victory against the TiTAN scourge.

     Wrathia lifted her hand and the chest tipped over, the bottles floating out as the wooden box clattered, broken, onto the marble. In beautiful, dancing lines, the vials spun and swung around the room, like fireflies through the air. Each one dropped into the outstretched palms of their owner, landing softly, warming their palms. Wrathia watched Nevy step back into line, lifting her hand to catch a beautiful, ornate bottle, gold and glass twisting with the fluidity of water. 

     Nevy raised it to Wrathia, like a toast at a banquet. But, instead of wine, she drank her cursed life and a permanent, unavoidable promise. She flicked the cork off with her fingernail, the others following suit, some biting it out and some pulling it. In a synchronized, almost practiced motion, all of them lifted the bottles to their lips, downing their entire lives.

     There would be no end now. They were forever hers, and would join her even in death.

     Wrathia watched them throw the glass onto the ground, the sound of shattering crystal like music to her ears. A loud cry rang out and all of them yelled to the rafters, praising Wrathia and the empire she had created. The floor glittered with promises made to be kept, and when Wrathia left, they bowed again, hair, skirts, armour sweeping the ground. TiTAN would fall, and they would help her make it happen, no matter how many lifetimes they needed to live through.

     Even if it took until the end of time, they would never stop fighting for her, for their last breath would only be the start of a new one.

-

     Wrathia could hear their applause, their trusting, loyal words of oath ringing in her ears. Her steps were shaky. She leaned against Pedri as he held her up, her weak body wracked with sobs. Behind her, through the door, they could hear the singing and chanting of their people, praising Wrathia and planning their revenge.

     By contrast, it was a frightening difference.

     Pedri pulled her closer and sunk down against a wall, not caring if a servant would walk past. He created a sensory wall around them and let Wrathia cry in his lap, her back shaking.

     “They c-can’t know, I can’t tell… tell them, Pedri.”

     “Tell them what, dearest?”

     “I’m not even sure if it will work.”

     Pedri was shocked, not saying anything. He watched her dry her eyes, pushing hair out of her face as she coughed out a sob.

     “I can’t know for sure if it will work,” Wrathia curled up and leaned against him, hugging her knees. “I… I did all that I could, but I can’t test it to be sure. I don’t know if it will work.” In her panic she began to repeat things. “I don’t know, I don’t know…”

     The door at the far end of the hallway opened, and Wrathia froze, watching a servant walk past carrying laundry. Her eyes wide, Pedri put an arm on her shoulder and shook his head, motioning for her to watch as the Vengess walked past, unnoticing of the pair in the middle of the hallway. Unintentionally, and subconsciously, they turned and walked around them, Pedri’s sorcery making them unnoticeable.

     Pedri rested his head on hers, his large stature making him look silly in comparison to Wrathia. “At the very least you gave them hope. Now they will relocate their families, find safety, live a full life. If it does not work, at least you gave them hope, Wrathia.”

     “Hope is useless,” she huffed, pressing her palms against her eyes. “I lied to them.”

     “Sometimes a good ruler must lie. It is their duty.”

     Wrathia sniffled, bringing one hand out to push her hair back. Straightening her circlet, she scratched the side of her neck and looked out the window. Outside, it was sunny, and the sky was beautiful. You couldn’t tell that war was coming. You couldn’t even tell that the sky had ever been cloudy.

     “Let’s go outside. You’ve done enough for today.”

     Pedri kissed her, helping her up and getting rid of the wall. Wrathia dragged her hand down her cheek and looked outside again, watching the dragons in the courtyard flutter their wings.

     “Forget about your duties,” Pedri took her hand and walked with her, making his way to the stairs. “Humour me and pretend that it’s like when we were younger, from before this all happened.”

     “Back when you actually had a decent face?” Wrathia snorted.

     Pedri smiled, laughing. “Exactly.”

-

     As they planned their fates, TiTAN grew impatient. 

     Their warriors were long gone, hidden by far off stars and the galaxy evacuated. All that remained were Wrathia and Pedri, sitting in the dark, waiting.

     All the lanterns were extinguished, all the animals gone. The entire world was empty, desolate, and the only two left were sitting on the palace steps, bottles in hand and blades strapped to their backs.

     They had wanted it this way, and even though all their warriors wished to stay and help them, they had refused. Not wanting them to risk their lives, which might not have been as immortal as they thought.

     It was a game of chance, and Pedri knew that it could go either way. He watched her, her tense jaw, her glowing hair, her tight, deathly grip on his hand.

     She was beautiful, she was his goddess. She was his everything and he would follow her into death.

     Which was exactly what he was doing.

     TiTAN came. His people appeared and their blue light seemed out of place and too perfect to be real. They cast an unnatural glow onto the ground, plants blooming then immediately dying wherever they stepped. Everything they touched flourished and grew beautifully, yet the moment they stepped away, it burnt up and disappeared. 

     Pedri watched Wrathia stand up. She dropped his hand, though he wished that she had held onto it.

     She lifted her bottle, which she had poisoned earlier. Defiantly, gorgeously, violently, she lifted it up and sneered, her fiery glow outshining those of TiTAN. The courtyard was lit up with her aura, her personality and her anger. She was beautiful when she was angry.

     It took everything in his power to no stop her. It killed him to see her uncork the bottle, and he felt his heart break the moment she drank it. She said nothing, she didn’t have to. The very action itself defied what TiTAN wanted, going out on her own terms. She lit up, like a funeral pyre and it was that crippling, empty moment that Pedri realized that he hadn’t kissed her one last time.

     She vomited up her life, magma pouring from her mouth as she fell to the ground, light and life spewing from her lips as she coughed painfully. He ran over, his composure broken, and lifted her up, holding her tightly in his arms as TiTAN watched, wordlessly.

     Wrathia began to cry, noiseless, but tears flowing down her cheeks. Pedri kissed her again and again, feeling her skin beginning to go cold. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with the last remnants of her soul and smiled weakly, closing her eyes.

     “I love you, Pedri.”

     Pedri could feel his eyes watering, and he watched a river of light flow up from her, her entire being entering the void. She outshone the stars, and her soul bled from her body.

     “I love you too, Wrathia,” he whispered, hands shaking as he kissed her again, her lips cold. He repeated. “Wrathia?”

     Fear and finality set in and he shook her body, the last essence of control gone. He cried out desperately, because he wasn’t sure if she had heard him.

     “Did you hear me? Wrathia? I love you-“ her head fell back and he adjusted her, his tears falling down his face as he ran his fingers over her cheeks, repeatedly running his fingers through her hair. “I love you.”

     He swore, his voice breaking before he whispered, so quietly he barely heard it himself.

     “I love you, Wrathia.”

     He stood, laying her down gently on the cool grass, her body no longer warm. Her head lolled to the side and her crown fell askew, sending another knife through his heart. Slowly, he looked at the vial, then looked into the blue light that now completely lit up the courtyard. He looked at Wrathia’s body, which was now limp and completely lifeless. Shaking, he pulled down his mask and set the bottle down on the ground, pulling his scythe off his back. Unsheathing it, he looked up, feeling empty, cold and absolutely numb with rage.

     His star was gone, his life was gone, everything that had ever made him happy, was gone. He gripped his blade and raised it, slamming it onto the ground and sending a stream of violet light through the stone courtyard. In a flash, he set fire to everything around him, all of his surroundings smoking and crackling. Jaw clenched, he leapt forward, his body ablaze with fury and flame.

     “ _I would follow you, even into death._ ”

     But fuck, if he wouldn’t go down burning.


	7. "Everything Hurts" (Wrathia/Pedri)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pedri, you nerd.

     “Everything hurts.”

     “Quiet, you big baby.”

     Wrathia lifted Pedri’s ankle into her lap, snorting as he winced theatrically. The sun shone in through the windows and onto the stone floor, and she rummaged through an old, wooden box. With one hand over his eyes, Pedri fell backwards onto the couch, raising his other hand to grasp at the air.

     “This is the end of me,” he gasped, coughing loudly. “I am done.” He let his arms fall, then slowly sat up, looking at Wrathia. She rolled her eyes, and ignored him, pulling out a roll of cloth. She began to unravel it, tilting over to peer at his foot as her hair fell into her eyes. Outside, the sounds of wind chimes could be heard, and a light breeze blew in through the window. Dissatisfied, Pedri groaned loudly and fell over again, clutching his chest. 

     “My wife has left me to die. Incapacitated, wounded, I am forever left to lament.”

     Wrathia knotted the cloth, pushing his leg off her lap. “You should have told me that you had sprained your ankle, then we wouldn’t have sparred.”

     Pedri chuckled, pushing himself up to kiss her forehead. She waved him off, pretending to be angry as he put his arm around her. Pedri raised his leg, squinting to look at his foot with extreme interest.

     Grumbling, Wrathia leaned into his chest, arms crossed. The sunlight warmed her toes, and she kicked her feet forward, gently nudging Pedri’s leg. “This doesn’t change the fact that I won.”

     Pedri tilted down to look at her, flopping his hand onto her head. She peered up through his fingers in minor annoyance. Pedri smiled. 

     “Of course not.”


End file.
